


Tell us a little about yourself and your background?
I was born and raised in Saskatchewan, Canada, and I live there with my husband and three girls ranging in ages from 3 to 10 year old. I’m a coffee addict and a Mine-craft junkie, and I adore spending time with my family, especially at the
lake.
I love writing books infused with humor, mystery, and steam. My series, the Wickwood Chronicles, is set in the fictional
town of Wickwood where the unexpected keeps happening. Book three in the series, Ghost of a Summoning, will be
coming out on September 14th, and it’s all about a prophecy that needs to be stopped or the gates of hell will be opened on Earth. (It’s funny too, I swear!)
How do you make time to write?
I wake up early in the morning and join the #5amwritersclub on Twitter. Sometimes it’s hard to make myself roll out of
bed and sometimes I wake up before my alarm. It’s the best time for me to write because everyone else in my house is
asleep and I find I’m the most productive in the morning.
Do you believe in writer’s block?
I think writer’s block can be attributed to either a lack or inspiration or a lack of motivation. If you really want to, you can
get around those. The biggest dry spell I had with my writing was because of depression. It took a while, but I got back
into my routine a step at a time. Even if I sat down and only wrote fifty words, I did it daily, and eventually returned to my regular pace.
When I feel a lack of inspiration, I read a lot. I’ll return to old favorites, or binge on something new.
Tell us a bit about the genre you write and why you love it.
I write paranormal romance, and I absolutely love ALL romance. Paranormal is especially exciting because I love
mythology and the fantastical paired with high stakes and spice.
How are you publishing your recent book, Ghost of an Enchantment, and why?
I’m with a small press called City Owl Press, and I love being one of their authors. They’re supportive and energetic and I
hope to be working with them for a long time yet.
Are you an Introvert or Extrovert? How does this affect your work?
I’m an extroverted introvert. I like meeting new people, but it can be draining, and I have no problem spending time on
my own. I think my biggest challenge is on social media. It’s hard for me to connect with new people, but I work at it a
little bit at a time.
What is your favorite motivational phrase?
Let’s do this!
What advice would you give to aspiring writers?
Reach out to people in the writing community and make connections. Other authors can be some of your greatest allies,
and you’ll never know what opportunities might come up.
Where can readers find you on the World Wide Web?
Lots of places! My website and newsletter sign up at https://www.jemcdonald.net/
And here are my social media links:
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/JEMcDonaldAuthor/?modal=admin_todo_tour
Twitter: https://twitter.com/JEMcdonaldSk
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/jemcdonaldsk/
Do you have an excerpt you’d like to share with us?
I’d love to! This is the beginning of Ghost of a Gamble, the first book in the Wickwood Chronicles.
Her tote bag hitched on her shoulder, Bree picked up her pace as she weaved in and out of the early morning shoppers.
Late. Late. Late. So damn late. One or two hours she could get away with. But three? Even Theo couldn’t be that
forgiving. Could he?
The eviction notice she’d found on her door that morning burned a hole in her back pocket. Trying not to dwell on it, she
trotted through the bustling morning crowd of old downtown. She skirted around a young family, then bumped into a
man with a camera pointed at the clock tower.
“Sorry!” she shouted as she dodged between a dog and bicycle, breezing past the advertisement board. Her short jog
finished in front of Theodore’s Bakery.
Bree inhaled the scent of fresh baked bread and thrust open the door. Chimes tinkled overhead. A line of customers
snaked through the shop, every table full with coffee-drinking, scone-eating patrons.
“Hey, Fran,” she said as she rushed to toss her tote bag on the back counter and grab her apron.
Behind the cash register, a harried Fran, her white hair coming out of her bun, shook her head, unsmiling. “I tried to call
you.”
“I turned my phone off.” As usual when I’m sleeping.
“Theo wants to talk to you.”
Bree glanced at the lineup, then back at Fran.
“Go,” Fran said, jerking her chin to the kitchen.
Tying the apron around her waist, Bree pushed through the swinging doors and found her boss taking a batch of buns
out of the oven. “Hey, Theo. Sorry I’m late. Fran said you wanted to talk to me?”
Theo’s bald head gleamed as he slid the pan into one of the cooling racks before meeting her gaze. “I can’t do it
anymore, Bree. I’m going to have to let you go.” His eyes held regret.
No. No. No. Not again. This wasn’t happening. “I’m sorry. I won’t be late again. I promise.”
He wiped his brow with his forearm. “I thought maybe it could work, but you’re not made for mornings.”
Bree smoothed her apron with shaky hands. “Then I can come later and do the shop work like Fran. I can clear tables
and serve people.”
He shook his head. “That’s what I have Fran for. I hired you for the back and that’s the person I need. I can only hire one
other person and I need that person here at six.”
From his quiet voice and the hard set of his shoulders, Bree knew he’d already made up his mind. She gave him a small
nod and forced her chin not to wobble. “I understand.” She stared at the tips of her sneakers. “I’m sorry I didn’t do a
better job.” Being yelled at would have been so much easier than dealing with his disappointment.
Do you have an excerpt you’d like to share with us?
A heavy sigh made her head snap up. Maybe he’d changed his mind? But the expression in his eyes told her not to get
her hopes up.
“Look,” he began. “I’ll give you a recommendation if you need it. I’ll keep an eye out if there are openings anywhere.”
Her breath hitched. “You’d give me a recommendation?”
“Hey, when you’re here, you’re a good worker. It’s these early hours that don’t suit you.”
If it were only the case. Bree’s stomach squeezed. Nine o’clock. Ten o’clock. It didn’t matter what time her job began.
She’d lay awake at night, wanting to fall asleep, willing herself to fall asleep, and nothing would happen but her brain
playing the haunting sound of the wind whispering through the pine trees in her ears.
And now she’d lost another job because she couldn’t wake up in the morning. Her eyes drifted over the pans stacked in
the sink, all the dough that hadn’t been rolled out yet. Failure had her shoulders slumping. She turned to leave, then
stopped. “Um, I hate to ask this, but my paycheck?”
Another sigh. “Fran’s got it up front.”
“Thanks.” She pushed the swinging door open and paused. “You were a good boss,” she said over her shoulder. The
sound of dough smacking the counter followed her into the storefront.
The line in the bakery had diminished some, but every table had someone at it. Fran gave her a sympathetic smile.
Guess she knew I was getting fired when I walked in the door. Bree took off her apron, grabbed her tote bag, and waited
until the last person in line had paid. She sidled up to the counter, hip pressed against the glass housing everything from cinnamon buns to focaccia, and gave Fran a half smile. “I’ll get an Americano to go.”
Fran rang her up. Bree scanned the patrons, trying not to let the gloom of being fired set in. She needed a new job or
she’d be living on the street in a week. Her eyes darted to the advertisement board full of flyers and posters outside the
bakery. Maybe she could find something there, something that didn’t involve a morning shift.
Fran passed her a coffee and her check. Bree glanced at it and a little of the tension in her chest eased. Just enough to
cover what she owed her landlord.
She dug into her pocket for a five to pay for the coffee. She knew she had one. She’d put it there yesterday and hadn’t
spent it. Or had she? Her front pockets were empty. She quickly checked her back pockets, but only found the eviction
notice. Her cheeks heated. Her bank account probably had enough in it for her to use her card, right? It would be a
gamble. She swallowed and met Fran’s brown eyes.
Fran waved a dismissive hand. “This one’s on me. Consider it a going away present.”
Bree barked out a laugh. “Like, ‘Please go away and never come back’ kind of present?”
Fran’s hand flew to her chest. “Oh, my, no! I’m just sorry it didn’t work out. Now Theo’s going to be a person short until he
finds someone more suitable.”
More suitable. Bree had heard that one before too. The door chimed and a new customer received Fran’s attention. Bree
lifted her cup. “Thanks for the coffee.”
Fran gave her a small smile, then turned her attention to the man in a suit. Bree eyed her check, a hard knot solidifying in her chest. She still needed another full month’s rent in three weeks.
The check wrinkled between her fingers as she squeezed it. One option would be to take the money and run. It was
enough that if she packed up and left tomorrow, she could settle in a new town and not look back. She’d already paid
her last month’s rent when she’d signed the rental agreement. And no one would miss her here.
Inaya would.
The door chimed behind her as she left the yeasty smells of the bakery. Bree inhaled the crisp air of the street, people watching as they bustled around her, trying to focus on anything but the unease in her chest. She sipped her coffee and
winced when it burned her tongue.
Rubbing the sting away on the back of her teeth, she strolled the five steps to the advertisement board. From beneath
the half-wall, she saw someone on the other side in combat boots and black jeans. Bree scanned the ads. Most were
college students searching for roommates. Others were for concerts coming up in the Wickwood area.
The hard knot in Bree’s chest mutated into a hot burn. She really needed a job.
Thunk. Thunk. A stapler hit the other side of the board. She straightened. Thunk. Thunk. Slowly, she edged to the side
and peeked around the board to check out what Mr. Combat Boots had posted. Probably looking for a roommate.
She noticed his hair first. Brown with a hint of red, it swept across his forehead to stop below his chin. A dusting of
stubble showed through his tawny skin, but nothing you could call a beard. And his clothes matched his boots. All black.
He’s cute. Her heart did a double thump. Really cute.
Straightening, she stepped around the board to get a better look at his flyer. His golden eyes tracked her, then quickly
looked away. He stepped back to admire his handiwork, and she stood beside him, shoulder to shoulder. Her body
hummed. Acting casual, Bree took a cautious sip of her coffee and read the flier.
HELP WANTED IMMEDIATELY
PART-TIME FIELD ASSISTANT
RESILIENT PERSONALITY PREFERRED
AVAILABLE NIGHTS
*NEEDS TO KEEP AN OPEN MIND*
She pursed her lips. “What do you do? Make pornos or something?” She wouldn’t want to star in a porno—not that she
didn’t have the skills—but taking a leap into adult entertainment wasn’t a life goal. She wasn’t a prude and could
probably be an assistant.
“What?” He turned so abruptly, he hit her elbow. She managed to hold onto her coffee, but some splashed out of the lid
and landed on his jacket with a splat.
“Oh, my God.” Bree set her cup on the ledge of the advertisement board and dug around in her tote for a tissue. “Are you
hurt? Are you burnt?”
Eyes wide, he shook his head.
“I’m so sorry.” Bree kept digging in her bag. There must be a napkin or something in here. “Not that it was my fault, mind
you, since you hit my hand. But I am sorry I poured coffee on you.” She found a used, crumpled up tissue, stared at it for
a full two seconds, shrugged, and wiped at the front of his jacket. “At least I didn’t get your boots wet.”
As she turned to reaffirm her coffee was secure on the ledge, she hit the cup with her tote. The cup tipped, tipped…she
reached…and it fell to the ground with a dull thud. The lid flew off and coffee splattered her sneakers and his boots.
“Oh my God, I can’t believe I did it again.” Easy come, easy go. That’s how it was with free pity coffees. She went to a
knee and swiped at the moisture on his boots. The embarrassment ringing in her ears made it hard for her to hear.
“Please stop,” he said, the words finally making it through.
She peered up to see his wonderfully beautiful face twisted in distress. Glaring at the tissue, she grimaced, and shoved
it in her tote before hopping to her feet.
“Sorry,” she muttered. Had she ruined her chances?
Most likely.
She glanced at the flyer. She really needed a job, but if he was wanting a fluffer, that was probably a deal breaker.
Probably.
“So, um, you’re needing a field assistant? I’m actually looking for a job.” Best not to mention she’d been fired five
minutes ago.
Instead of saying yes or no, he stared at her with bewildered eyes. She cleared her throat. No change in his expression.
She cocked her chin to the flyer. “The porno thing? I haven’t worked at a porno shoot before.”
“Porno thing?” That snapped him out of it. “What? No.” He shook his head. “No porno thing.”
From the completely shocked look on his face, she knew he had to be telling the truth. She swallowed hard. But was it
something worse? Her mind scrambled to fill in the blanks left by the flier. Grave digger? Grave robber? Neither fit.
No matter what it was, she worried at her bottom lip, believing she might have just ruined her shot at making sure she
didn’t end up homeless.
Title: Betting Blind
Author: Loren Beeson
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Cover Designer: Emily Wittig
Publication Date: June 18th, 2021
Hosted by: Lady Amber’s PR
Blurb:
Cassidy Smith is desperate for some excitement. Her free-spirited best friend keeps her on her toes with the occasional misadventure, but deep down, she just needs… more. When the girls stumble into a bar known for its bad reputation and a tattooed, bad boy owner, Cassidy’s left daydreaming about what it would be like to ditch her boring life and find a way to fit in with the rough, rowdy crowd of The Pound.
Jack Campbell’s got a one-track mind. He works hard to provide for the guys who work for him and even harder to keep his bar running in tip-top shape. He can’t afford the temptation of Cassidy being more than just a temporary employee, but against his better judgment, he offers the beautiful blonde a job at his bar. Things get more complicated for Jack when his older brother starts stirring up trouble in town, etching a target on his back and forcing him into a world he promised never to turn back to.
With their hearts on the table and a deck full of secrets, will they bet it all… or give up their hand?
Loren is a dreamer, artist, radiologic technologist, and author who loves animals and people. Always writing short stories as a young child and young adult, she knew she wanted to become an author someday. The Art of Loving Ellie is Loren’s debut novel.
Loren can be found in her cozy home in Texas with her nose in a book, her corgi and mini aussie on her lap, and her son trailing along with her and her husband through their many adventures.
Website | Instagram | Facebook | Goodreads | Twitter | Amazon
Tell us a little about yourself and your background?
I am sixty-two, almost sixty-three. I was born in Des Moines Iowa and moved from Iowa to Minnesota when I was seventeen, after having lost a child, Eliza, (whose name I use in Boy). My father, Hugh, was at that time in Wayzata, a suburb of Mpls. I moved in with him and his new family to try to begin a new life for myself, which did not work as changing only one’s demographics is not enough unless one has made changes within themselves first, which I had not. It wasn’t until I moved to an area where nothing was familiar to me that I began to quit abusing myself and setting myself up for failure. In 1984/1985 I moved to the Gunflint Trail out of Grand Marais Minnesota. Being truly alone for the first time in my life, and with only myself to lean on, gave me only one option for surviving and that was to jump into life and appreciate all of the simple things it offered, without drugs and influence of any kind. I became a hard worker, something I also had not known I was capable of. I became a business owner with my sister who later moved to the area for many of the same reasons I had. Together we have owned and operated multiple businesses in the area and have used our business as a platform for mentoring many who are in need of the same push I once needed. I retired from the restaurant business in 2018 and in 2020 established a nonprofit with my sister called Hamilton Habitat Inc. We are 100% donation funded and our mission is to build “affordable homes” in our sweet little community. To date, we have built four which are all owner-occupied for which I am proud. Our end game with our nonprofit will be to build an elder village for folks who are not quite at the point of needing care or full-time care. A community of elders that based on the building model will allow them to keep an eye on each other if you will. I am also very anxious to get back to writing and am currently trying to figure out just how to juggle both.
How do you make time to write?
I wait for a rainy or snowy day. I am a workaholic so on these types of days, the weather gives me permission to slow down and be at home, which is my quiet writing space.
Do you believe in writer’s block?
Sure, I believe in writer’s block though I have not experienced it. I would imagine that it depends on the genre in which you are writing. When I read a story that is so involved and full of detail, holds my attention at every page, I am amazed. I would imagine that these authors suffer from time to time with writer’s block only because their stories are so incredibly extensive. Since I write only about what I know, it flows faster than I can write.
Tell us a bit about the genre you write and why you love it.
I am not familiar with this genre, to be honest. I wrote Boy purely to heal myself from what had been the saddest period of my life and also to send a message on the importance of being present with the ones that need us the most—our elders.
How are you publishing your recent book and why?
Between the Lines Publishing found me during the recent pandemic. I was home writing and started putting excerpts of my stories on FaceBook just for fun. The reactions to these stories fueled me to keep sharing more. The publisher had asked if I was interested in publishing any or all of these specific stories, and although I am interested in such an offer, what I really wanted was for Boy to be cleaned and polished, and published. I am forever grateful for the opportunity this woman has given me.
Are you an Introvert or Extrovert? How does this affect your work?
I am an introvert, which shocks the people that know me when I say that. Because I have had businesses over the years that depend on the public, I became a salesperson. I am good with people on my own turf. But, take me out of that environment and I am awkward and prefer not to be in a crowd or the center of attention.
What is your favorite motivational phrase?
A motivational phrase depends on the subject matter. If we are referring to writing I would say that:
There is no wrong way if it is your heart that is driving you. Don’t fake it. Write what you know and keep writing. One day something will just feel right no matter what anyone else says.
Boy
by Anna Hamilton
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
GENRE: Drama/Family/Sweet Romance/Dementia
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
BLURB:
“Boy” is a story about a few weeks in the lives of Hugh and Betty Roberts, an elderly couple living alone on a family farm in Iowa. They are buried deep in grief over the loss of their only child and struggling to hang on to the only life they have ever known when dementia sneaks in. An unusual visitor brings a welcome distraction and reprieve just before the Thanksgiving holiday.
Join this couple and other unforgettable characters as they prepare to share in a memorable and much-needed Thanksgiving gathering at the old couple’s farm. What transpires is credited to friendship, love, and the relentless power of hope. Directly or indirectly we are reminded of what really matters on this brief walk we call Life.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Excerpt
On both sides of the driveway there were fields of corn, now harvested. Even in the wind, you could hear the pheasants running through the few stalks that remained. The distant fence lines stood like loyal soldiers waiting for the day they could come home. The air smelled wet and of dirt, the smell one becomes addicted to after having lived off the land.
As they walked the long driveway arm in arm, Hugh got a whiff of his childhood. All around him he smelled the seventy-eight years of his life. He turned to look at his wife who still clung to the small box and wondered whether she too could smell the years in the wind.
The rain looked like it was still miles away, however, the wind was always strong and present. In Iowa, the wind is never far away, always sneaking around, reminding you of how pointless it was to comb your hair or wear a cap.
By the time they had reached the mailbox, it had started to sprinkle. Hugh let go of Betty’s arm long enough to retrieve the mail and shove it inside of his flannel shirt, when a gust of wind swept by them, taking with it the lid from the box. Across the field and into the next it tumbled, until being captured by the loyal soldiers.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
Anna Hamilton (1958- present) was born in Des Moines Iowa. She lives in Northern Minnesota along the Canadian border where she owns and operates a small restaurant in the village of Grand Marais. During the slower winter months, she writes, preferring fiction over non-fiction. “Fiction,” she says, “is much easier to create because you can be on the outside of a story looking in, rather than on the inside, fighting your way out.” Hence her first novel ‘Boy’.
When she is not working or writing, her time is spent mentoring children in need and advocates on behalf of both children and the elderly. She and her sister Sarah are currently working towards building affordable housing for their community. Part of the proceeds from her first novel ‘Boy’ will be dedicated to helping finance that project.
https://www.amazon.com/Anna-Hamilton/e/B0799QDH3W
Facebook: www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100067350947195
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/AnnaHughBetty
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7436469.Anna_Hamilton
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
GIVEAWAY and RAFFLECOPTER CODE
Anna Hamilton will be awarding a $25 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour, in addition to the gift card, the author will offer a prize to a second winner: a store coupon from Between the Lines Publishing/Liminal Press (half price print book or free ebook).
RAFFLECOPTER:
Enter to win a $25 Amazon/BN GC or a publisher store certificate – a Rafflecopter giveaway
Title:
Cruel Summer
Author:
L.L. Hunter
Genre:
YA Contemporary Romantic Suspense, Mystery
Cover
Designer: Emily Wittig
Publication
Date: Sept. 30th, 2021
Hosted
by: Lady
Amber’s PR
Blurb:
Over the summer, Stacey Miller lost her innocence.
But it’s not how people think.
The pastor’s step- daughter has a dark secret, one she’d rather keep hidden forever.
But when recent events force her to open up and tell Darcie, her best friend, the truth, Stacey knows she can’t run or hide.
Besides that, there is still a killer on the loose, and Darcie might be next.
They’ll do anything to keep the town, and Darcie, from uncovering the truth.
The thrilling third instalment of the Summervale series.
If you are an author and you’d like to be interviewed on my blog. I’d love to host you.
Over 1200 people subscribe to this page and many want to read about Author journeys.
To make it simple, I’ve created this form so you can just fill it out. I hope to hear from you soon.
Tell us a little about yourself and your background?
I’m a fantasy romance author living in the Pacific Northwest of the US. I’ve lived all over the country and even spent a year abroad as a kid. I love to travel and see new places and meet new people. Traveling is a little harder now that I have kids, though they are pretty adventurous too. One of the things I’m most exciting to get back to in 2022 is traveling again.
As for my journey to becoming a writer, I’m what some might consider a late bloomer. As a child I wasn’t motivated to learn to read because with picture books I could always make up a story that interested me as much as the “official” one. When I was eight my mom started reading me chapters books before bed and that’s when I really fell in love with the magic of the written word, and was motivated to learn to read myself. Similarly I’ve always been drawn to story telling, but didn’t really start writing stories until I took a creative writing class in college and really felt the magic in that creative process. It was a long journey from those first classes to my first published book twenty years later.
How do you make time to write?
As a mom with three school aged children, I’m used to fitting writing in around school schedules and other kid activities. I’ve written a lot of words sitting on the sidelines of dance class or kiddy soccer. That said, this past year has been a whole new level of challenge in terms of time management. My kids have only recently returned to in-person school and we are all adjusting to the new schedule. One thing I’m really looking forward to is writing in coffee shops again.
Do you believe in writer’s block?
I certainly believe in burn out, and other obstacles to the creative process. Art of any kind takes a certain amount of creative energy, and there are certainly circumstances in a writer’s life that can make it difficult to refill the well.
What genre are your books and what draws you to this genre?
I write fantasy romance novels, because ultimately I want to write the books I most want to read. I’ve always been drawn to the wonder and possibilities of fantasy novels, but I also crave the optimism and emotional resonance of a good romance. With fantasy romance I feel like I have the best of both worlds.
How did you come up with the idea for your series, Hands of Destin?
I spent a long time world building and playing around with a magic system where everyone has a touch of talent, so much so that the idea of magic doesn’t even really exist. I wanted to explore the lives of ordinary people in an extraordinary world. I’m a character first writer, so I really established the friend group that is at the core of the Hands of Destin series before diving into any individual book. I’m a huge fan of found family stories and “buddy novels” as they are sometimes called in romance circles, where a series depends on moving from one couple to another in a friend or family group.
Some my character choices were very deliberate, but my writing is also subject to the whims of the muse. I feel like Madi (the heroine from Deadly Courtship, book two in the series) introduced herself fully formed while I was in the shower one day. And don’t ask me why all the best ideas strike in the shower, but it is surprisingly common!
I see you are Traditionally Published, why was this path right for you?
I’m a perfectionist and a tinkerer who can always see new ways to improve my work, so external deadlines and expectations are really helpful to my writing process. As a new writer, I also really wanted to focus on the writing, without having to account for all the other moving pieces that go into creating a book. I can imagine self-publishing eventually, but for now I really enjoy the partnership I have with my publisher.
How did you deal with Rejection Letters if you received any?
My personal philosophy is that you miss all of the chances you don’t take, so it is important to not let the fear of failure hold you back. Rejection and criticism are part of the business of writing. I also believe that fiction is a collaboration between the writer and the reader, which means that my stories aren’t always going to land the way I intend it to land. Understanding this makes it easier to have the thick skin needed for this business.
What advice would you give to aspiring writers?
Write the book you’ve always wanted to read, for two reasons. One: if the idea excites you, then you can bet there are readers out there hungry for the same thing. Two: you are going to be reading your work over and over and over, until there are times when you hate it. If the story doesn’t grab you on some deep level, pushing through those rough patches is going to be that much harder.
Where can readers find you on the World Wide Web?
Website: http://www.jayceejarvis.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorJayceeJarvis/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/JayceeJarvis
Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/jaycee-jarvis
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/18092674.Jaycee_Jarvis
Do you have an excerpt you’d like to share with us?
I’ll share the moment before Terin and Aurelia’s first kiss in Crowning Courtship—I think this scene captures some of the tensions of their charade, as well as Aurelia’s inner struggle against their mutual attraction.
Terin chuckled. “Could you be more perfect?”
His toes found hers under the water and his foot rubbed Aurelia’s leg in a subtle caress that filled her with impossible longings.
The smile dropped off her face, as she was reminded of exactly why she was no prize. She looked away, lacking the will to move her foot out of reach. “Hardly perfect.”
His scooted closer, his face serious. “Perfect for me.”
Aurelia’s heart fluttered. He meant she was perfect for his scheme, perfect for his deception, and yet she yearned to take him at his word. To believe that this time, just once, she was enough.
She canted toward him, her breath shallow and her lips parted.
Desire flared in his eyes, visible even in the low light. Would he kiss her? Should she kiss him?
With a groan he pushed away from her. He dropped his head back on the edge of the pool with a loud thump.
She flinched, the hollow thud reawakening the anxiety she had felt on entering the room. Her head flared with a sympathy pain.
He drummed the back of his head against the rock while muttering angrily.
“What’s wrong?” She had never seen him take on so.
“I promised to be good,” he growled, his face still turned up toward the ceiling, though at least he’d stopped banging his head.
Her brow knit. “Have you done something bad?”
He tilted his head to look at her. The heat and longing in his gaze seared right to her core. “I want, rather desperately, to kiss you, but I promised I would behave. That I would wait for you. Wait for your invitation before touching you, and only do what you want me to do. Do you want me to kiss you?”
“Now? Here?” Her eyes darted around the glittering chamber. While they were alone, the room was hardly private.
“Ever.”
He was so beautiful it was almost painful. Of course she wanted this man. How could she not? It was time she be honest with them both. With a feeling like she was tossing her fate to the current, she met his gaze square on. “Yes, Terin, I do.”